An Instagram story popped up on my feed late last night: a young woman I know from the shop, commiserating on the indelicate filth and absurd joy that young children bring. In her brief video clip she relates the nearly real-time experience of giving her 1 year old daughter a bath - and of the sudden disturbing appearance of a most unwelcome turd. The baby reacts to the tiny alien submarine with bewilderment and limited language: "That? Thaaat?", which could mean What the hell is this? or (and) That is yours to deal with.

My wife, in bed, heard me laugh out loud in the front room. And this morning, before work: You're going to tell the poop story aren't you? Yes, apparently.

Max, with a gift for words and yet ever so succinct, began his letter to you last week simply with "Wow.". It's been that kind of week, that kind of month and year. 2021 yielded but a few days of respite and now here we are. This morning I'm thinking about this new year and (as is customary every January, I suppose) reflecting on self, on relationships, on this country. Thinking about new resolutions, new possibilities. Of all the changes I wish to see, to enact. But I'm reminded to take some time to acknowledge those elements of self and surrounding that deserve to remain. Things worthy of our pride and our heart. Reminding myself that there are indeed good things. Great things, even. Yes, in 2020. And in 2021. Things worthy of celebration. Things worthy of permanence. While we look to make positive changes, the old saying "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater" comes to mind. Though to be clear, like many in the House advocated yesterday: Definitely, definitely toss out the shit.

So clean, scrub, toss, purge. Do what you must. But hold onto the good things. Cling to the little joys. And then let's face this new day together. Refreshed.

Cheers,

Daniel